Of Bread and Geese
by Elliemae1980
Summary: A look at the evening leading up to Peeta's question of whether Katniss' love for him is "real or not real".  A look at when Peeta re-discovered joy.  Two one-shots melded together that show how life changes everything and nothing.


"Of Bread and Geese"

**Author's Note**

For those purists among us, I know that Katniss' birthday is actually in May, but this fit the story in my mind better, so I ran with it. Sorry for any offense! Hope you enjoy anyway!

Katniss' POV

The sun is going to set soon, and this unsettles me. Since Peeta's arrival in District Twelve has re-awakened my dulled senses, I've gradually become more observant of the passage of time. This in itself isn't remarkable, but I've also developed what is more or less a routine for my days, which involves actively participating in living once more. The boy with the bread has saved me again, whether or not he had intended to; only this time he's saved me from myself. I still lose days, but I know that Peeta will wake much earlier than I, and he will have fresh bread baked before breakfast, just as he will for dinner, which he is present for every night. As ever, my life is centered around my family, only now my family is Peeta, Haymitch, and Greasy Sae. I hunt or fish during the day, while Peeta helps with the cleanup in town.

His plan is to build a new bakery where the old one stood. The first time he went to the place where his family had died, I made myself get dressed in the clothes that were still far too loose on me and go with him, because I wanted to be there to explain to everyone what was happening if he had a flashback. I had warned Thom that some of the men may have to restrain him, and he had looked at me strangely, but he agreed to work nearby in case I needed him. In the end, my fears were proved unnecessary. Peeta just stood and stared at the twisted metal of the ovens for what seemed like hours with no expression on his face until, with a slight shake of his head, he turned, gave me a tight smile, and started shoveling ashes into a cart. I fled into the woods and didn't go back after that. We don't discuss the particulars of our nightmares, but I'd be willing to bet that as many of his feature ashes as do mine.

In the evenings that we always spend together now, we sit and stare into the fire that is necessary for the cool evenings, or we work on the memory book. At night, we sleep in each others' arms. It no longer eliminates the nightmares altogether, but it is much easier to fall back asleep when someone is there to remind you that tomorrow will be another day to live for those who no longer can.

The first time that Peeta stayed all night, we had just begun on Rue's portion of the book. I had been so afraid that I would forget everything, but once he started on her portrait, it all came back much too clearly. As Peeta painted, I closed my eyes and described to him the feel of her cold little body in my sleeping bag the night we shared it in the tree. I told him of her excitement as we formulated the plan to destroy the Careers' food supply. The more I talked, the more I thought about what happened in her district on our tour, and somehow I had what I can only think of as a waking nightmare. Behind my eyes, I saw an army of peacekeepers, who somehow all had Gale's face, offering groosling legs to the children of District Eleven. Whenever a child would take one, the groosling would explode, and the Gale-faced soldier would laugh and move on to the next child. I was screaming for Rue to get out of there when I felt strong arms around me and someone whispering in my ear. I opened my eyes to find them full of tears, and Peeta sitting on the floor with me, rocking me like a child. When he had calmed me, we climbed the stairs together, and when I crawled into my bed fully clothed and held out the cover for him, he didn't hesitate.

His presence has kept me grounded since then, which is why the sunset has me unsettled. Peeta is always home before dark. I know that on some days, especially since the weather has begun to get cooler, his leg pains him quite a bit, and makes his walk back home much slower, but this evening I have an uneasy feeling. I decide that no harm will come of going for a quick walk before dinner, maybe even along the route that Peeta normally travels, so I grab my leather hunting coat and start out my door. The cool air hits me like a blast from a gun, and I shiver as I pull my coat more tightly around me. There are buttons missing that I don't have the skill or patience to sew back on. Maybe Peeta will do it for me, since his hands seem to be skilled at just about any task that requires concentration and talent.

I think about this as I set off, only to have my thoughts interrupted by an awful ruckus coming from Haymitch's yard. I know from checking on him earlier that Haymitch just got a new batch of liquor on this morning's train, so he should be passed out by now, not making enough noise for the residents of District Thirteen to hear. I alter my course, and as I pass Peeta's empty house and Haymitch's comes into view, I have the horrible urge to giggle. I haven't giggled since my father died, but that's what I want to do now. Haymitch's geese have Peeta trapped in a tree like a squirrel, and the grouchiest gander, the one that I secretly call Little Haymitch, is stretching his neck and honking loudly, obviously trying to bite Peeta's…well, bottom. Peeta is on the lowest branch, only about three feet off the ground, which explains how he got up there with his bad leg. He is clutching the trunk with one hand and holding a basket with the other, while trying to kick the goose in the head with his good leg. The scene is by far the funniest thing I have seen in a very long time. Peeta looks up and catches me grinning, and gives me a pleading look. I can tell by the tightness around his eyes that he is in pain. I know I have to help him, only I have no stick, and I can't shoot the stupid things, because they are what keeps Haymitch sane when he can't drink himself into a stupor. I try to think quickly. There are about twenty of them, and only one of me. I can't just walk over to Peeta and ignore them, or they'll have me right up the tree beside him. Suddenly, I remember my father singing to a lynx that had appeared out of nowhere and backed me against a tree when I was out hunting with him. He sang to it until he could get a clean shot at it with his bow. If his voice could stop the mockingjays and the lynx, surely mine could stop some angry geese. I quickly fumble around in my brain for a song, and what I come up with is the valley song, the one that Peeta said made him fall in love with me when we were five:

Down in the valley, the valley so low  
>Hang your head over, hear the wind blow<br>Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow  
>Hang your head over, hear the wind blow<br>Roses love sunshine, violets love dew  
>Angels in heaven, know I love you<br>If you don't love me, love whom you please  
>Put your arms round me, give my heart ease<br>Give my heart ease love, give my heart ease  
>Put your arms round me, give my heart ease<br>Write me a letter, send it by mail  
>Send it in care of the Birmingham Jail<br>Birmingham Jail love, Birmingham Jail  
>Send it in care of the Birmingham Jail<br>Build me a castle, forty feet high  
>So I can see her, as she rides by<br>As she rides by love, as she rides by  
>So I can see her, as she rides by<br>Down in the valley, the valley so low  
>Hang your head over, hear the wind blow<p>

Amazingly enough, the geese seem to calm down, and the gander is no longer trying to bite Peeta. He stops and stares at me with his small, black eyes. When I finish singing, the geese begin to stir, so I immediately start singing again, only this time, I walk to Peeta as I sing. As the words of our ancestors flow from somewhere deep inside me, I take Peeta's hand and help him out of the tree. I keep his hand in mine as we continue to move away from the tree and into the path that will lead us to my house. The geese follow, a little too closely for my taste, but I never stop singing. When we reach my door, I push Peeta through first before slowly backing into my kitchen, still singing. The very second that I close the door, the geese begin honking and pecking at the door, but we are safely inside. I take a deep breath and turn to Peeta, expecting to see his look of pain, but he is coming to me, cupping my cheeks in his hands with a look of…I'm not sure, but I think it's a look of wonder on his face. At any rate, it's an expression I haven't seen from him for a very long time, if ever.

"Katniss, do you realize how breathtakingly beautiful you are?"

He gives a small smile as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over my cheekbones. His actions have caught me off guard, and my breath seems to have gone wherever my mind is. Peeta, however, seems to have plenty of breath.

"I just thought you were beautiful in that red plaid dress, but I was wrong. Just now, in that old leather coat with your hair coming out of your braid while you were serenading those stupid geese, you were more stunning than you ever were in any of the beautiful dresses that Cinna designed for you."

The thought of Cinna does not have time to bring with it a pang of sadness, because Peeta's warm lips are suddenly on mine, insisting that I give them my full attention. We've shared kisses in the past few weeks, but they have been the short, soft kind that evoke a feeling of comfort more than hunger. Until this very moment, I had not realized how much I had longed for this heat, this connection to Peeta on a whole different level.

When he finally breaks away to press his forehead against mine, I note with satisfaction that he is as breathless as I seem to be. With his blue eyes so near mine, I am suddenly inexplicably bashful, and feel the need to draw his intense stare away from me.

"What is in that basket that is so important that you would rather risk being bitten by a goose than let go?" My voice is shaky, even further discomfiting me. If Peeta notices, he says nothing about it as he drops his hands and turns to retrieve the basket from the counter.

"It's a surprise for you. We had a train this morning." He slowly begins unwrapping the cloth in the basket.

"I checked on Haymitch earlier and saw that he had liquor, so I knew there must have been a train. I didn't order anything, though."

"Katniss, I know you didn't order anything. I told you this was a surprise. Do you not know what today is?"

I try to remember what the date is. I know it is September, but I can't remember the day of the week, much less the day of the month. I'm fairly sure that it must be close to the end of the month, judging by the rate of the leaves falling in the forest.

"Um, it's close to the end of September, right?" I look to him for confirmation.

He smirks sadly and shakes his head. "Yes, September 20, to be precise. If I'm not mistaken, someone in this house has a birthday today."

My heart immediately skips a beat. Today has been my nineteenth birthday, and I didn't even realize it until this very moment. My first thought is that so many others will never have another birthday, while I am here, kissing Peeta in my warm kitchen. I sink to the floor with grief as I struggle to breathe.

"Katniss! Are you okay?" Peeta is panicking, struggling to kneel beside me, but I can't find the words to respond. There is a roaring noise in my ears, and black spots are beginning to cloud my vision. Just as I'm about to lose touch with reality, I feel Peeta's lips on mine. The heat begins to course through me once more, and I am reminded of the time in the Capitol when I kissed him back to me.

"Katniss, come back to me. Don't leave me again." Peeta's breath is warm in my ear, and I open my eyes to his intense blue stare once more.

"Peeta." One strangled word is all I can manage, but it seems to be enough for him, because he pulls me into his arms and holds tight until I stop trembling. After I gather my thoughts, I feel terrible for my reaction.

"Peeta, I…I'm sorry. You had a nice surprise for me, and I ruined it. I know sitting like this is hurting your leg after all that cold air. Let me make us some tea and warm supper." I can't meet his eyes. Peeta only wanted to make my birthday happy, and I have gone mental once again and made his effort worthless.

"Hey, look at me." He tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should've known that you wouldn't want to celebrate your birthday, but I had some good news too, and I thought we could celebrate both together. We can just forget about it and go to bed early, if you like."

Now I feel truly monstrous. I've never been good with words, but I have to make him understand how much he means to me, even if I can't fully understand it myself.

"No, Peeta. You should never apologize to me for anything. Without you, I wouldn't even be alive to celebrate anything ever again. I mean, I…not just alive, but _wanting_ to live." He tries to say something, but I put my finger over his lips and continue, "I know I'm not very good at this, but I'd like to start over from when we came inside, and see if I can give your thoughtfulness the reaction it deserves. Can we do that?"

He nods his assent, and I move my finger. He catches my hand and places a kiss on my palm.

"Katniss, will you do something for me as well?"

I think of all the ways I could answer this, but I just nod.

"After I give you my gift, will you sing for me again?"

Again, I just nod. Other than just now, I haven't sung since those long days in the Capitol when I felt sure that I would never come home. It's slightly more difficult to sing the songs my father taught me while walking around in this place haunted by the ghosts of all the ones who would never hear them again, but I know that I will do anything for Peeta right now. I pull myself up, then put my arms down to help him up. As soon as he's up, he walks to the basket, and I do my best to make this idea of mine work.

"So, Peeta, what's in the basket? It's pretty large to just be bread."

"Katniss Everdeen, has anyone ever told you that you are entirely too impatient?" He smiles as he says this, so I know he is teasing. He is so much better at being cheerful than I am.

"I may have heard it a time or two somewhere. So, what's in the basket?"

He actually laughs at this, and I can't help but smile at the sound. He motions for me to sit at the table. I sit, and he sets the basket in front of me.

"It's not much, but I thought it might give you something to do when the game gets scarce during the winter."

Now genuinely impatient, I move aside the cloth and see quite a few small bundles tied up in burlap, a garden trowel, a small watering can, some gloves, a book about gardening, and a small box wrapped in shiny paper. I pick up the book first and smile at Peeta as I sit it on the table, then do the same with the trowel, gloves, watering can, and the shiny box. I pick up one of the burlap bundles, untie it, and see that it is full of seeds of some sort. I look at Peeta, puzzled.

"I couldn't bring it all up from the station by myself, but Thom will bring up the materials for your greenhouse in his wagon tomorrow morning. I know there are herbs and plants you gather in the woods, but I thought if we could get the lighting right, you could grow this stuff all year, especially since I'll be needing some of these herbs for the bakery very soon." His words have all come out in such a rush, that my mind hasn't had time dwell on the last greenhouse I was in.

"Wait, very soon? How close are you to having the bakery finished?" Now I am almost ashamed that I have avoided town like a plague, since I don't even know how much progress Peeta has made.

He smiled again. "That's the good news I got today. Now that nearly all the factories are rebuilt, I can get most of the walls and roofing pre-fabricated, so it should only take about a week to get the building up, and another week to get the ovens and shelving on the inside. I ordered everything today. It will be very nice to have my ovens inside a building instead of baking under a shed, as I've been doing."

It is almost too much all at once. Peeta has been very busy, while I have been doing…what? Playing at hunting and walking around in the woods. I decide that if I can do some small thing to help rebuild my town, then I will do my best to get this greenhouse going and grow these plants, even though it was always my mother and Prim who were the nurturers. I will just have to learn. I slowly look up at him, and I even manage a genuine smile.

"Thank you Peeta, for the greenhouse. I am so happy about the bakery. I promise I'll have the herbs you need for your bread. But it's a good thing you got the book, because I've never actually grown anything before."

"You'll do just fine. You forgot to open your box." He picks it up and hands it to me, and he looks…nervous, I think.

"Oh, Peeta, this is just too much. I can't-"

He shakes his head as he cuts me off, "Katniss, you agreed to let me give you this. Just open it."

I slowly peel the shiny paper off the box, and lift the lid. Inside, there is a ring sitting on a little pillow of velvet. I gasp and look up at him, but his gaze is on his hands, which he has clasped in front of him.

"It's the pearl that I gave you during the Quell. I didn't know you had kept it all this time until one day last month when I was getting a coat out of the downstairs closet and it fell on the floor. I had it sent off to District One to have it made into a ring. It…did you know that one of the things a pearl symbolizes is faith?" He stops suddenly and looks at me. I shake my head, not just because I did not know this, but because I don't understand what this means.

"I knew when I found it that despite all that had happened, despite what Snow had made me into, you never gave up on me. If you had kept this pearl all this time, then you believed in me, in us, even if you couldn't admit it to yourself. Katniss, there are no strings attached to this ring, I just wanted something beautiful made of it to show you how beautiful your faith is to me."

Peeta gently takes the box from me and gingerly removes the ring from its little pillow. I am still staring at him, struck as dumb as the table upon which my hands lay.

"You don't even have to wear this. I can put it in the closet where I found the pearl-"

I stand suddenly, and my hands reach out to wrap around Peeta's. He looks at me, and I return his gaze without looking away.

My mouth opens, and I begin to sing:

Oh, I promise  
>I'll sing down the moon<br>Drop it on down  
>Put it right in your room<br>Oh, Sing down the moon  
>Sing down the moon for you.<br>Oh, I promise  
>I'll sing down the stars<br>Give them to you  
>To hold in your arms<br>Oh, Sing down the stars  
>Sing down the stars for you. Oh, I promise<br>I'll sing down the skies  
>Bring them inside<br>To reflect in your eyes  
>Oh, Sing down the skies<br>Sing down the skies for you.  
>Oh, I promise<br>I'll sing down the moon  
>Drop it on down<br>Put it right in your room  
>Oh, Sing down the moon<br>Sing down the moon for you.

As the last note drops away, I lean in, and this time it is me that initiates the kiss. After a pause, Peeta's hands make their way to my hips, and he pulls me even closer as he deepens the kiss. The heat is not a slow burn this time, but a scorching inferno, and I feel myself burning from head to toe. My hands are tangled in his hair and my body is pressed as tightly as possible against his. Our hands begin to explore each others' bodies as the hunger for each other threatens to engulf us. Somehow, our clothes end up on the floor and on the stairs, and Peeta and I find ourselves in my room. Despite the urgency I feel, Peeta seems determined to move slowly, as if to purposely infuriate me, but it only makes me hunger for him even more. His caresses are as gentle as silk, and I can only cling to him as if my very life depends on not letting go of his shoulders. When we finally combust together, I know that no matter what, this is _right_. That Peeta is more precious to me than air or even life itself. That I had been foolish to think that I could ever deny what I feel for him is love, the type of love that can make a person do things they would never do before. The type of love that gives hope and at the same time is absolutely terrifying in its intensity. The kind of love worth dying for, yet gives you the desire to really_ live_.

I am on the verge of telling him this when he whispers through my damp hair as he places the pearl ring on my finger, "You love me. Real or not real?"

With all the certainty that I never knew I possessed until this moment, knowing that I am answering more than one question, I whisper, "Real."

** This was originally just a one-shot that I had to write, but recently, Peeta (or at least my little internal Peeta who inhabits my head occasionally) has decided that he has a story to tell, so I will be writing another chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed the writing exercise.


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